2 Years After Damnation
by asyinsanium
Summary: 15 year old Paul Sawyer had always been a loner, even before the apocalypse that changed everything. But when no-nonsense Sarah barrels into his life with a head of steam, things get way more interesting. As they join together and try to find refugee in this broken world, they find out how hopelessness will force them to do inhuman things. PLEASE REVIEW, FAVORITE AND FOLLOW!


_ Crap._

I ran towards my bag, huffing and puffing for air. My legs pumped. My knees lifted. My back arched. As a natural born runner, I had no trouble running from things in the past: Homework, bullies, even my older siblings. I was faster than any person I had ever known.

But this wasn't a person.

It ran in tattered, dirty clothing, caked in its own and its victim's blood. The shoes it had were worn out and there were holes at the tip, exposing untidy toes. Its nails were sharp and cut into its own fingers, spilling out gory flesh. Its sex was indeterminate, its chest suggesting it could be a female but the chest may have been extended due to extreme bloating from undigested flesh. Its legs and arms were scabbed, scratched and even broken in many places, but it did not succumb to the pain, for it felt none. Its chest did not rise, its heart did not beat, its brain did not think. The only thing on the mind was flesh.

Its face was shaped like a pus-filled flower. Symmetrical blooms of blood-laden scabbed sprouted from where its eyes used to be, covering up everything but its nose and teeth. Its bright-orange bottom and its blood-red tips would be beautiful, if it was on a real flower. But as I saw that poor man or woman running towards me in a drunken sprint, I saw nothing appealing.

It moved in a surprisingly silent stagger, only producing noise out of its throat, uttering a guttural click, like a mix of someone clearing their throat and choking on blood. I ran out of the building and slammed the doors shut. I leaned against the doors, panting. I knew it was a matter of seconds before hellion caught up to me.

_Why would you leave your bag out here, idiot?_ I remembered my stupidity as I ruffled through my plain, purple drawstring bag. I was rushing through the store, looking for some extra supplies, thinking I would find another bag of supplies in there with me. I couldn't believe my stupidity. I fell on a piece of glass wrong and a loud pitched screeched rang my ears. I took one glance and ran for my life. Nothing in that store was worth a death like that.

I picked up a length of rope I had been saving up for a rainy day. I smiled. It was as tall as me, so I knew it would suffice. I tied it to the handles of the door. _I hope this holds._ The clicker (ooh, "clicker" has a nice ring to it) banged against the door the moment the last tie was made. The door shook, but held. I could see some parts of its body as it tied to break through the door. A gun holster passed my eyes. _A holster is good news. Maybe this clicker has some stuff on it. _I constructed a plan to kill the clicker. I looked around me. A small store sign hung lowly on the top of the building, unrecognizable. The area around me was gray, brown and green. The world seemed to be like that, nowadays. The ground was dry and cracked. Huge rocks were scattered all over the face.

Desperation led my hands and I dumped everything out of my bag. I quickly surveyed everything I saw in there.

2 bottles of water

A "fun-sized" bag of M&Ms

A half a bag of beef jerky

A Swiss Army knife

A dark Aeropostale hoodie

A gas mask

Bandana

Leather gloves

An idea crossed my mind. I didn't like it, but as I remembered the holster tied on the side

of the its leg, I made up my mind. I brought out my bandana and picked around in my beef jerky bag. I found a good sized piece and put it in the bandana and tied it well. It looked like a ball with two small wings on the size. I got my Swiss Army knife, put on my gloves and did a small prayer.

"Dear God, thank you for another day alive and not infected. Please help me kill this thing and go ho-"

The word home stuck in my throat. I could still remember the way it was. My sister and I watching TV together. Whenever my mom and I would go to the store and she'd listen to me talk about video games I knew she didn't care about. Those times my dad would make time with me and play catch with me. Those times were dead and gone, like my family was. I choked up but swallowed my sorrow. _No tears, dammit. _"Amen."

_ There's work to do. _

I untied the door, a hard task and hoped for the best. The clicker ran towards me with a head of steam, a head in which I punched. As it reeled back, I took the bandana and shoved it into its mouth. It was shaking around until it realized the meat in its mouth. I moved back my hand as it chomped, the force knocking 2 of its own teeth out. It chewed on the bandana, desperately trying to get the meat. As it was occupied with the meat, I got out my Swiss Army knife and frantically moved to the knife setting. I got it out and looked at the 3 in blade sticking out like a sore thumb. _It'll have to do._

I grabbed the knife with two hands, brought my hand up and stabbed the clicker through the head. It stopped mid-chew and blood pooled out of its mouth, soaking my shirt and my bandana. It fell over and hit its head on a rock, splitting it open. I gagged, but forced my food to stay in my body. _We've only had one meal today, we can't afford to let it all go to waste. _I looked towards the sky. The sun was threatening to begin its descent back out of the world, giving the moon a place of residence. I looked at the clicker and remembered what I was here for. I took off the holster; no gun on it, of course. I looked inside for a gun. No dice. I frowned. _Not a great beginning for a search. _I looked inside for any perishables, foods, anything I could use. I came out with a box of matches, a bottle of ibuprofen and a whole lot of sorrow.

I checked the thing on the ground. Apparently, the only reason the person had a holster without a gun was because he was drunk. I found a mason jar full of something I could only think was moonshine, since the smell made me want to kill myself. I found another empty jar, apparently filled with something (if possible) worse than moonshine, since the jar was full of an almost clear smoke that could probably make anthrax look like a paper cut.

I gingerly put the jar down and looked at the clicker's face. _I've never seen one's this bad. Maybe halfway, but never this bad. I wonder why?_

I shrugged and then stuffed everything in my bag, except my gas mask and, of course, my bandana. I put on my mask, took a deep breath and made the mile trek back "home".


End file.
